Yours Truly
by Drucilla
Summary: A visitor returns to the Babylon 5 station on his way to Earth to live out his remaining days in peace, but when his past returns to haunt him peace will be the last thing he finds... (rough draft)


A/N: Deepest apologies that it took me so long to get back to this story. I've edited it and collapsed it down to one long section, since it seemed too short to break into chapters. This is still a rough (albeit second) draft, and hopefully I'll upload the final edition in a week or so.  
  
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Step, step, tap. Step, step, tap. Step, step, tap.   
  
Delenn froze. She had been walking in the Zocalo... but she'd heard those sounds before. She knew the cadence of that walk, even though she'd only heard it a few times, over the course of a day, years before. Delenn froze in her tracks, and listened for the familiar, strange sound.   
  
"Ma'am?" One of the ubiquitous rangers was at her elbow. She started, blinking. She must have been standing there longer than she'd thought. She smiled politely, made some sort of reassuring comment, and kept walking.   
  
Delenn meandered through the Zocalo, taking advantage of a few moment's peace to simply walk around and do what she wanted to do. It wasn't very often, any more, that her time was her own to do with what she would. She had begun to savor the moments, and store them up against a time when she would be too busy, too harried to take time out for herself. Even now, as with the Ranger, she had to be on the lookout, on guard, on her best behavior. But this was the closest she'd come to time off in a long, long time. Time off for good behavior. Mm. How strange these sayings were.   
  
Step, step, tap. Step, step, tap. Step, step, tap.   
  
Delenn's head shot up as she looked around frantically to try and locate the source of the sound. Another moment and she forced herself to relax. Even if it was him, she told herself, the Vorlons had gone. Or at least, they had achieved their goal in sending him to Babylon 5. They had found out what they had wanted to know and he had left. She hadn't ever thought she would see him again, but even if she did, what did it matter? He wouldn't be returning (couldn't be returning, she told herself) in the same capacity as last time.   
  
Her mind refused to acknowledge what every other part of her body was telling her as true, that the second time she had heard the sound it had been louder, nearer. Her mind could acknowledge many things, but this was not one of them. Delenn refused to believe that he was coming for her a second time. She had passed the test, he had said so himself. And though he may have had other faults in abundance, she knew somehow that that was one point on which he would not equivocate or speak falsely. Slowly, she relaxed. It probably wasn't him anyway. Just some other man with a cane.   
  
Step, step, tap. Step, step, tap. Step, step, tap.   
  
This time it was right at her ear, right at her elbow. She could hear it, and it nearly jarred her teeth. And   
  
this time, Delenn knew, she couldn't wish it away. She could even hear his voice, though she couldn't make out the words. He was murmuring to someone in that too-silky voice that he had. She wondered who the someone was, and whether or not the cane that she heard tapping was still the ones the Vorlons (no doubt) had made for him. He was behind her, now, and she wondered if he saw her. Slowly, Delenn turned around.   
  
Yes, indeed, it was him. Standing there, still in his 19th century Earth clothing, looking a bit older, a bit more worn, a great deal more tired. His face was still pale, his eyes still sunken, dark and brooding from having seen and lived far, far beyond what most humans would have tolerated. Two women with him (to her confusion), one on each arm. One younger, possibly in her early twenties if that old, staring up at him with 'youthful crush' written all over her face. The other, most likely in her forties, a ship's officer and a merchant from the looks of her, perhaps even a Captain. It had been she that he had been murmuring to, and now she was nodding and politely extracting herself from him to close a deal. Delenn watched, shocked and confused.   
  
"I'll be a little while," she was telling him, "Why don't you two head back to the ship and let them know. And then, if you can spare the time, we'll be here possibly a week or so before we set off back out through the jump-gate."   
  
"All right," he made a little bow, and what looked like a slight, genuine smile. "It has been a pleasure serving with you, Captain."   
  
The other woman smiled back and shook his hand. "It's been a pleasure to have you with us. We'll all miss you on the Redeemer. It's been good to have you with us." The other girl reluctantly let go of him long enough for the Captain to give him a brief, formal hug. They nodded farewell, and then the man and the young woman turned to go.   
  
Delenn had been watching so intently that she'd forgotten she was staring. They nearly ran into her, and by the time she'd moved out of the way and tried to pretend she hadn't been staring, he had seen her. She salvaged what remained of her dignity and gathered her scattered wits, nodding polite greetings.   
  
"Delenn," his voice was tired but not, she was starting to think, unwelcoming. "So you did survive. I am... pleased."   
  
It was some few minutes before Delenn could find her voice again. Despite slowly recovering her composure, speaking, it seemed, was still difficult. Finally she settled, resigning herself to his presence at least for the moment. She would worry about tomorrow when it came.   
  
"Hello, Sebastien."  
  
"... and will you be accompanying him to Earth?"   
  
Delenn was completely confounded. The young woman, Julianna, who had been with Sebastien earlier, was now sitting with her at a table in a rather nice cafe and having tea. That was all very well and good, except that the fact that Sebasten would be in the company of a young woman at all was causing her no small bit of confusion.   
  
The main source of her confusion was currently off elsewhere on ship's business, or so he said. She was inclined to believe him; he'd never given her cause to doubt his integrity. Only his sanity, she thought with a slight shudder. It had occurred to her several times already to wonder what she was going to say to Sheridan about the new arrival. Perhaps it was best, she thought, if she didn't say anything until later this evening, after she had ascertained the man's intentions.   
  
"No," Julianna said regretfully, drawing Delenn's attention back to the conversation at hand. "The Captain wanted me to stay on board, help out with the shipments and things. Sebastien was teaching me how to manage the accounts, says I'm quite good at it." She mimicked his accent uncannily well, sending another shiver down Delenn's spine. "And besides," the younger woman said regretfully, "I think he wants to be alone when he..." she trailed off.   
  
Delenn nodded. "I see." She thought she did, too. She could understand Sebastien wanting to be alone with his thoughts, regrets, dreams, when he went down to Earth to live out whatever time remained to him. In a way, she devoutly hoped he could do so in peace. He'd certainly earned it.   
  
Julianna stared into her teacup, stirring it absently with the small plastic spoon. Delenn really had to admit to liking the girl, although the concept of Sebastien in the company of anyone so calm and normal still nagged at her. She wondered if the girl knew something, anything about the man's darker natures and temperaments. She was sure that if he hadn't told the young woman yet, that it wasn't her place to tell Julianna. The young woman would find out eventually.   
  
"You knew him," Julianna said suddenly, startling Delenn out of her thoughts by speaking them almost exactly, "Back before the Vorlons left. You knew him back when he was still working for the Vorlons. He mentioned he'd been by here..."   
  
Delenn nodded slowly, cautious. She didn't want to say things that it wasn't her place to say. But at the same time dodging Julianna's questions could look suspicious. Partial truth, then, enough to satisfy her curiosity but not enough to betray Sebastien's privacy.   
  
"I did," she said. "In a way. He was only here for a short time, and in an official capacity. I never really got a chance to actually speak to him, or get to know him very well." Which is true, Delenn thought wryly, He came to know me very well, and I hardly knew him at all.   
  
Julianna looked faintly disappointed. "I wish I'd had more of a chance to know him," she sighed. "He's so... I keep thinking, okay, now I really do know him. And then one day he'll say or do something and I realize that I don't know him at all." It sounded like something a girl at a higher education school would have said, except that something in her tone of voice made Delenn think she really did know what the implications of her words were.   
  
"He is... complex," Delenn agreed. "He has been through much, seen and done many things..." she had no idea where she was going with this. It was the sort of generic thing you could say about nearly anyone these days, and yet of him it was so true. She let her words trail off... and then she thought that she had never been so relieved to hear that measured Step, step, tap as she was just then.   
  
"Are you finding each other good company?" Sebastien asked lightly as he walked up behind Julianne. Delenn looked up at him, almost expecting to see the horror she had known so briefly. Instead he was only a man, and still a tired one at that.   
  
"Very much so." Delenn found it surprisingly easy to say, and even easier to smile kindly at him. She was surprised at herself; she had expected to be still afraid and nervous that the next tap of the cane would send jolts through her body. But somehow, after so much time, she wasn't.   
  
"I hope I haven't been too much of a burden on your time," Julianna said, rising to accompany Sebastien back to the merchanter ship.   
  
"Not at all," Delenn hastened to reassure her. "It has been a most relaxing day." Despite the surprises, she thought ruefully. Sebastien seemed to know her thoughts, in that uncanny way that he still possessed, and nodded slightly to her. Julianna didn't seem to see.   
  
"Indeed," he said softly. Then he bowed slightly to her, an archaic and somehow melancholy gesture. "Give Sheridan my regards,"   
  
Delenn nodded politely back, and they parted ways. She stared after them for a second, then moved slowly but purposefully back to her quarters. So much to tell John tonight. And she wondered, what would his reaction be. Would he remember the man that had been, or would he see the man that was now. Or would he even know there was a difference.   
  
Sebastien looked around as he and his young companion made their way through the Zocolo. "You could do worse than to stay here, you know, Julianna. This is a good place, run by good people."   
  
Julianna stared. Sebastien did not often offer that kind of general, all-encompassing praise of a place, still less often of a person. From what she knew of him... more than he probably knew that she knew... he had lived too long and seen too much to offer a blanket good or even a blanket bad opinion of anything. Therefore, if he said that it was a 'good place...' it must be a very splendid place to live indeed, for whatever reason. Knowing Sebastien the reasons were probably moral fortitude, peace and quiet.   
  
He caught her gaze and chuckled. "Oh, it is a place populated by fragile, falliable creatures. But for all that, it is still a good place."  
  
Julianna nodded slowly. "If you say it, I will believe it," she smiled slightly, continued on. "But... I'd thought, really, that I'd travel. Stay with the Redeemer, and Captain Marisela. See new things, go to new places. Learn more about the universe around me."  
  
Sebastien nodded slowly. The cane tap-tap-tapped along the floor. "As you wish."  
  
Julianna smiled slightly and said nothing for a little while about his slightly wistful tone. She looked around. "You visited here once, but Delenn said you were only here for a short time..."  
  
He nodded slowly. "I was here, serving in a capacity of ... investigator." There was the briefest pause before that word, and Julianna had the feeling he was substituting it for another, less kind word for what he had done. "A job for my previous employers. I had the privilege of making the acquaintance of Delenn, and President Sheridan... this was, of course, before he became President."  
  
"And ..." Julianna stopped herself before she asked what he was investigating. She'd already guessed that his 'previous employers' had been the Vorlons, which meant that he could have been investigating just about anything. And it most probably also meant that she didn't want to know, especially given the rest of his past...  
  
Sebastien brought her thoughts out of that depressing line with a reassuring, gentle squeeze of her hand. "Yes, it was that visit upon which I formed my opinion of this station," he said, answering a different question and diverting the conversation.  
  
They passed out of the Zocalo and into the corridors on the way to the ship. "It certainly doesn't seem like the usual sort of spaceport we travel through..." her voice trailed off. It had been in a spaceport that Sebastien had found her, though it certainly wasn't anything like Babylon 5.  
  
"It is ..." Sebastien paused briefly, and Julianna looked at him with some concern.  
  
"It is...?"  
  
He recovered himself, kept walking. Julianna continued to stare at him oddly, as if to say she knew he was putting on a show of being all right for her benefit. "It is a haven of solidarity and morality... a fortress of light, which stands against the darkness." A tiny smile quirked the edges of his lips at the ridiculous yet oddly fitting allegory.  
  
Julianna chuckled softly. "You're waxing poetic again. You only do that when you're also waxing nostalgic... or something like it, anyway."  
  
He glanced at her. "Do I?" Pause. "I suppose I do."  
  
The young woman frowned. He was waxing poetical, and he did usually poeticize when he was reminiscing... or trying to forget... some aspect of his long and varied past. But something was different now, something having to do with the station, and she was worried about him. Julianna had been on the ship in his company for long enough to realize that if something was bothering the enigmatic man, all that could be done was to wait. He would never tell anyone... especially not someone whom he saw as innocent, like her... about the bloody past he carried with him. But that didn't mean she had to like it.  
  
They approached the bay where their ship, the Redeemer, was docked. Sebastien patted her hand and gently disengaged himself from her protective arm. "I must meet with the captain.. you go on. Return to the station. Enjoy yourself while we have these few days."  
  
She frowned. She really didn't like the way he said that. "All right. You be careful, okay? And don't brood too much. If I find out you've been brooding I'll subject you to sickeningly cheerful storybooks."  
  
He chuckled, but as usual the smile never touched his eyes. "Yes, miss." He touched the brim of his hat and was gone. Step, step, tap.  
  
Julianna sighed and headed back out to the Zocalo. Sometimes she really wanted to throttle that man.   
  
Delenn walked back to her quarters late that day, wondering how she was going to tell John that Sebastien had returned. She toyed with the idea of not telling him at all, but there was no real reason to keep the information from him, and he would want to know. But he remembered what had happened between the three of them with a much harsher view than she did, or at least that was her impression. She also had the suspicion that he knew something she didn't, something idle and trivial like a fragment of a conversation he might've heard once, that influenced his opinion.   
  
She arrived at the door to his quarters and sighed. Perhaps John's opinion would have changed with him in the interim that had passed. They had all changed since the Vorlon Inquisitor had last been on the station, and for the better, Delenn thought. Even Sebastien.   
  
Delenn smiled as she walked through the door. John was puttering around the kitchen and actually humming as he cooked... whatever it was he was cooking. It must have been a good day for him. She noted with surprise and pleased amusement that he had set out candles and a fancy table setting for them both. She sat down in a nearby chair, smiling as she watched him. She always loved to watch him in unguarded moments.   
  
"Hel-lo!" he said in a sing-song tone, wandering over and kissing her on the forehead before going back to his cooking.   
  
"Mmmm.. that smells good," she said. It did, truly. She thought it was some sort of 'pasta', which she had been introduced to a few years ago, but it was not a sauce which she was familiar with.   
  
"Good! Good," he said, pleased. "It should be ready in a few minutes."   
  
There was a more lengthy pause. Delenn tried to figure out how she was going to approach the topic. Perhaps a casual way was best. After all, there was no real need to make much of something that might turn out to be nothing in the end. "I met an old friend today," she said.   
  
"Oh?" John continued puttering around in the kitchen.   
  
"I think he was on his way back to Earth.. though he seemed quite content in his present company," she dodged, suddenly unsure of whether or not this was really that good of an idea.   
  
"Well, that's good..." John said almost absently. Then he seemed to realize... "Who was it?"   
  
"Mr. Sebastien."   
  
*CLANG* The pot lid he'd been holding fell to the counter. John stayed standing there for a second longer then turned to stare at Delenn, blinking incredulously. They stayed there, staring at each other for a few seconds before they caught the burning smell from the oven. "Damn!" he swore, and went to rescue the garlic bread. Then he swore again as he grabbed an oven mitt. "Sebastien is on the station?"   
  
"Yes," she nodded slowly. Well, he was taking it better than she'd anticipated. "And he seems much happier than he ..." she tried to think of how to say what she meant and then gave it up for a bad job. "Well, he seems much more content."   
  
John shook his head slowly. "I don't know...I don't like that man. I'm not sure I trust him either. There's... something about him..."   
  
Now Delenn knew there was something he wasn't telling her. John never formed opinions this strong about someone without corresponding evidence. It was going to be most frustrating if he insisted on this silence. "Well, as of yet he has done nothing wrong," she said. "And besides, I do not think he intended to remain on the station for very long. You should not even have to meet him if you do not wish to." It came out more waspishly than she'd intended, but John was behaving somewhat irrationally. If there was something bad or wrong or dangerous that he knew about Sebastien, he should tell her, not try to protect her. Oh well. It was an endearing, if frustrating trait of his. And, she thought guiltily, she did it too sometimes.   
  
"I hope so," John said, shaking his head slowly. "I hope so."   
  
"And we found the third body late last night," Zack said, displaying a horrific image of a woman cut open, her internal organs laid out in an almost surgical manner. "Everyone's up in arms about it. The only thing we can seem to connect them with is that whoever it is is targeting only human women, and mostly from Down Below."   
  
Lochley looked like she wanted to be sick. "And this is all within the past few days?"   
  
Zack nodded grimly. "I've got every man I can spare and some I can't working on it. I don't know..." he shook his head, staring at the wallscreen. "This reminds me of something... I just can't think of what..."   
  
Sheridan walked in on the conversation just as Zack closed out the image. "What reminds you of..." He stopped. He stared at the now-blank screen. "What was that?"   
  
Zack shook his head slowly. "Pictures from a murder scene... trust me, Mr. President, you don't want to see that."   
  
"No, I think I do..." he narrowed his eyes and walked closer. "Put it back on."   
  
Zack shrugged and muttered "Okay. They're your nightmares..." under his breath as he pulled up the images again. The woman was displayed again, torn and bloody.   
  
"Let me guess," Sheridan said slowly. "They're all women, all human, all from Down Below or one of the other shady areas. Maybe you suspected them of prostitution or something similar. Or maybe they just liked to dress up and go to the wrong venues."   
  
Zack stared. "How did you know that?"   
  
Sheridan turned to him. "It's a long story. There's a man on a ship that just got in, I think you'll find the ship docked just before the first murder. His name is Sebastien. Get him and bring him in for questioning."   
  
Lochley and Zack stared. "Mr. President, with all due respect, you can't do that without..." Lochley started...   
  
"I know, but you can hold him for a while without actually charging him of anything. Get him in a holding cell, Zack. I want to talk to him. And I don't want him running around on the station a minute longer than absolutely necessary."  
  
When Security came for Sebastien they found him waiting for them almost expectantly and with much resignation. The rest of the Redeemer didn't seem to be as anticipating, but Sebastian acted almost as if he expected to be arrested.   
  
He was sitting in the luxuriously appointed (for a merchanting ship) dining hall and talking quietly with the young woman called Julianna. In another corner a Minbari and a human were talking quietly with the captain, and a Narn wandered in and out of the room as they looked around, trying to determine which was Sebastien until Security Chief Zack Allen walked in.   
  
"Mr. Sebastien," he said, sounding tired. "You'll have to come with us."   
  
All talk stopped in the room. Julianna looked up at Zack incredulously, the captain guardedly. The Minbari and the human stared between the security guard and the captain, as though unsure whether or not to leap to Sebastien's defense. Zack devoutly hoped that the situation didn't get as messy as he thought it could. At least Sebastien himself didn't seem to be inclined to make any bufss.  
  
"What... why?" Julianna asked indignantly. "What are you..."   
  
"He's wanted on suspicion of murder," Zack said, interrupting gently but firmly. "We're not arresting you, Mr. Sebastien, but we need you to talk to us..."   
  
Sebastien held up a hand. "I understand," he said quietly, standing. Julianna stared at him incredulously.   
  
"What... you can't! You can't possibly mean to go with them, you haven't done anything..." She turned to Zack indignantly. "He didn't do anything! What evidence do you have..." She stopped entirely as Sebastien laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him, and he looked down at her, and something seemed to pass between them. Then he looked to the captain.   
  
"It's up to you," she said carefully, and the human and Minbari stood down. Sebastien nodded.   
  
"I will return soon," he said, more to the young woman who was looking at him now with worry and fear than to the captain, and nodded to Zack, as though giving the man permission to arrest him. Zack had the disconcerting feeling that he wasn't the one in charge here, and it made him a bit rougher with the older man than he might have otherwise been.   
  
"All right, let's go," he said, grabbing Sebastien's arm. Sebastien permitted the mandhandling, and walked out without a backward glance. The security guards followed, looking impassive but a bit disturbed by how easily the whole business had been accomplished. They were used to people begging, bribing, or otherwise trying to get out of a questioning. Not this calm acceptance. What the hell was Sebastien up to?   
  
Behind them, back on the Redeemer, Julianna and the rest of the crew were wondering the exact same thing. Julianna stared through the doorway long after the security crew had left.   
  
There was another watcher as Sebastien was marched to the Security offices, though none of the people in the party knew it. G'Kar and Londo had been arguing over the disposition of a shipment of alcohol when they saw the tall, composed man being marched by hunched over and suspicious security guards. Londo stared for a second and then shook his head, clicking his tongue regretfully.   
  
"And here he looked like such a... intelligent man," he said wryly.   
  
"He did," G'Kar said thoughtfully. "But something about his attitude puzzles me."   
  
"What attitude?" Londo scoffed. "He is being marched away by security. Everyone has an attitude when they are being marched away by security."   
  
"Except for this man," G'kar said, "And that is what puzzles me." He stared as they turned the corner and then muttered, more to himself than to Londo. "What is it that he knows, that they don't. What does he have in his mind... I wonder."   
  
"Look, I can vouch for him, and the rest of the crew can too," Julianna pleaded with Zack, "He was with us nearly the whole past few days..."   
  
Zack sighed. She'd been in his office for the past fifteen minutes, trying pleasantly and well-meaningly but persistently to get Sebastien out of the holding cell he was in. It didn't help that Sheridan wouldn't actually tell him why they were holding Sebastien. He hadn't been able to contact the President since they'd brought the man in, and Sheridan hadn't told them beforehand. "I'm sorry, Miss, but if you can't vouch for him for each instance where a murder took place, we still have to hold him on suspicion..."   
  
"Suspicion of what? Of dressing funny?" Julianna said incredulously, "Mr. Allen, just what about him is suspicious? Why exactly do you suspect him?"   
  
Zack sighed, stalling for time. He had to come up with something. "The President can't release that information just now," he temporized. "I'm sorry. We'll keep you informed, and call you when he's released.." He looked up, gesturing for her to be escorted out.   
  
"Look.. Mr. Allen... you can't..." she protested, but allowed herself to be gently shooed out the room.   
  
Once she was outside Zack sighed and gently banged his head against the desk. He really needed to talk to Sheridan, and soon. He couldn't just keep giving her and the rest of the crew excuses, especially not when she seemed in such genuine distress. And not when Sebastien had been perfectly cooperative, if stubbornly silent about nearly everything that would help in some sort of clerical search. He stabbed the commlink with a finger. "Get me Sheridan."   
  
Sheridan, in point of fact, had his own problems with the Redeemer crew to deal with. Captain Marisela was talking with him, and while she was a good deal calmer than Julianna she was no less intent on securing her goal: Sebastien's freedom. She stood in a corner of the room at parade rest, her hands clasped loosely behind her back. "So what you are telling me, Mr. President, is that you have no real proof that Sebastien committed any crime while in your jurisdiction."   
  
Sheridan took a deep breath. He wanted to deny that, he wanted very badly to provide some sort of proof of what Sebastien had done. Aside from the murders entirely (although he admitted that this was dubiously moral at very best) he wanted to try, convict, and hang Sebastien on the sole crime of torturing Delenn. But the captain was right. He didn't have any proof, not of the initial murders and not now of the copycat crimes. "We haven't yet charged Sebastien of any crime. We're only holding him on suspicion. We believe he has information..."   
  
"He can tell you nothing, Mr. President, because he knows nothing. He has been in the company of one or another of my crew, or Julianna, every moment he has been on this station. When he has not, he has been on board my ship. Your own security cameras will tell you when he left the ship."   
  
"They do indeed," Sheridan agreed, "But of course your crew members will vouch for him. They may even, because they can't conceive that he would do anything like this, say he was with them the whole time when in fact he may have lost them for even fifteen minutes in the Zocalo."   
  
Marisela narrowed her eyes. "Why are you so convinced he did this? He's only been here once before, you've known him barely a few days. We have known him for two years. Shouldn't we be the better judge of his character?"   
  
Sheridan chuckled slightly, more out of irony than anything. "I don't think anyone can be a really good judge of that man's character."   
  
Marisela arched an eyebrow. "You should ask Julianna about that someday." Then, before he could ask her what she meant by that. "Captain..."   
  
"Just.. trust me on this," he said finally, unable to explain to her why he thought what he did.   
  
And yet... "You know, don't you." It wasn't a question. Sheridan looked up at her, startled. She began to pace the length of the room, slowly.   
  
"How do you know?"   
  
"He told me." She said it matter-of-factly, as if ex-murderers... not that you could be an ex-murderer... confessed legendary crimes every day. "He was... concerned... that while not under the influence of the Vorlons he might lapse somehow, or slide back. So he wanted at least one person who knew the truth to watch him, and make sure it didn't happen."   
  
"So you know why we're holding him..."   
  
"I guessed." She shrugged again. "I didn't want to explain it if you didn't know. But... the way you talk about him..."   
  
Sheridan nodded slowly, seeing what she meant. "I found out about it purely by accident. I don't know if he would have told me or not."   
  
"Probably not," she said. It might have been his imagination, but her tone sounded slightly cold. He wondered what Sebastien possibly could have done or said that would have gotten such a seemingly moral woman on his side. "So are you going to charge him with the murders now?"   
  
"Well, like you said, I have no proof."   
  
"There's no statute of limitations on murder."   
  
Oh. She meant the other murders. "I have no proof of that, either. And he never actually confessed. And I don't think you're likely to testify..." she started shaking her head even before he'd finished the sentence. "So, no charge."   
  
Marisela nodded slowly and then turned to leave, apparently having gotten what she came for. She stopped in the doorway, though, and turned. "You know..." she said slowly. "It's a funny thing. He's been around for ... four hundred years, now. And in all those years, of all the people he's met... me and my crew are the only ones who have met Sebastien. Everyone else only remembers Jack. Even you, who should know better."   
  
Sheridan would have asked what she meant by that, but she'd left before he could get the words out. A flash from the past echoed her, the memory of the last words he'd heard from Sebastien.   
  
Good luck to you in your holy cause, Captain Sheridan. May your choices have better results than mine. Remembered, not as a messenger. Remembered, not as a reformer, not as a prophet, not as a hero... not even as Sebastien.   
  
The object of the President's ruminations was in fact ruminating himself on that very same conversation. He was sitting in the holding area, perfectly calm and still, wondering how long it would be before his past ceased to catch up with him. He'd thought, when he had taken that walk through the inner city on Io two years ago, that he had finally eradicated all traces of Jack from his person. It seemed that while he had let it go, however, the President had not. And he, and the Captain (of necessity), and Sebastien were the only ones still in the galaxy who knew. It must have been on Sheridan's orders that he had been brought in for questioning, but he must not have told the policemen who had talked to him, because they seemed very puzzled as to why a gentleman such as he would be suspected of crimes as brutal as those murders. At least, as to why the President would suspect him and yet be unable to tell anyone why. They were treating him very carefully; Sebastien guessed that they thought he was some sort of diplomat or ambassador or something else under the auspices of international relations. That would be the only reason they would be capable of giving to themselves.   
  
Well, they would let him go soon, in any case. They could not hold him for very long without actually charging him with anything, and as he was innocent of these particular crimes they had no charges to bring against him. It was probably for the best. And anyhow, Julianna would by now be raising every kind of ruckus she could to get him released. He smiled slightly at the thought. She was so young, so innocent, in so many ways. It was a minor miracle that she had remained so, considering.   
  
The door opened. Mr. Allen walked in, followed by a pretty young red-head. Sebastien wondered puzzledly if she was some sort of higher-ranking officer, to join in the questioning.   
  
"Before we get started," Mr. Allen said in the weary tone of a man who is doing something against all his better judgment, "I'd just like to say that this was not my idea... Captain Lochley and the President thought that this ..." he faltered at the completely calm expression on Sebastien's face, "would be of some help in the investigation..."   
  
"I see," Sebastien said mildly.   
  
"Miss Alexander is a telepath," he said finally, indicating the woman, "She is going to probe your mind for ... memories that you may have forgotten that could help us... with your permission."   
  
"The President believes that you might know things... things you've seen, or things you might not realize are important, that could help in the investigation," Lyta said. Sebastien grew more curious and more guarded as he recognized the tone in her voice. While he knew nothing else about her he knew that she, like he had been, was a True Believer. What it was that she believed in she had yet to reveal.   
  
Still, there wasn't much harm in letting her, as Mr. Allen had put it, probe his mind. The Vorlons had ensured that he was protected against telepathic probes and attacks if he so chose, anticipating that he would be called upon to investigate telepaths. It might even provide a little insight into her mind as well. He nodded once, acquiescing.   
  
Zack Allen sighed and stepped to the back of the room, distancing himself from what he clearly considered to be a bad idea. Lyta looked Sebastien over as though he were a lab experiment in some sort of medical university and sat down directly opposite him. She placed her hands on either side of his head, not touching him, but close enough that he could feel her there. She closed her eyes.   
  
Immediately, as though she was calling up the thoughts in his head, images began to assail them both. They were images and sensations that Sebastien had already committed to memory, dealt with, made peace with. However, they were new to Lyta. Bloody images, of women gutted in the streets and covered in rain and mud. Foul images, of the debauchery and drunkenness and lechery that had run rampant in the East End of London in his time. Terrifying images, of his torture at the hands of the Vorlons. Towering images, of how he had returned that torture to others.   
  
Lyta's head rocked back with the force of the telepathic slap that pushed her violently out of Sebastien's mind. She stood up abruptly afterwards, staring at him as though he'd grown a second head. Then again, perhaps in her mind it was like he had. She had been pushed out of his mind, and not by him. In her own mind she'd heard a voice, a Vorlon voice. You do not belong here.   
  
Lyta stared at him for another few seconds before bolting out of the room. Zack Allen looked from Sebastien to her, confused and upset. He was also, Sebastien thought, angry at him for no other reason than because he had caused upset to Miss Alexander. Well, that was their business.   
  
Alone again in the room, Sebastien smiled smugly to himself and returned to waiting.   
  
"I've talked to everyone I can think of. The Captain, too, and ..." Julianna sighed, slumping hopelessly. "I just can't get anyone to listen."   
  
Delenn reached across the small table and patted her hand comfortingly, then clasped it in both of hers. "If, as you say, they have only detained him for questioning, it will not be too much longer before he is released. They will have to; if he did not commit the crimes there is no proof, and no legal recourse to hold him."   
  
"You don't think he did it, do you?" Julianna asked almost pleadingly, as though begging to be reassured.   
  
Delenn was silent for a few thoughtful moments. "I think he is a man capable of many things. But, no I do not think he murdered those women. It... would not be in his nature."   
  
Julianna nodded slowly, sitting back. "I don't know why they suspect him... they do, or they wouldn't have treated him like they did. Or what they want to ask him, it's not like he could know anything. And it's most frustrating that they won't tell us anything, or let us talk to him." Her eyes actually looked as though she might cry at any moment. Delenn was startled by the depth of passion in the young woman for Sebastien.   
  
"You care for him very much, don't you..." Delenn asked quietly, tentatively.   
  
Julianna was silent for a moment. "He saved my life. In more than one way," she said after a bit. Delenn waited, letting her tell the story if she wanted to or change the subject if she did not.   
  
"I grew up in a privileged family... at least for Io, at the time. We were fairly prosperous, and I went to a prestigious university, studying history. I wanted to be a teacher, partially inspired by my own professors. I studied hard. I did well. I met a young man, my third year there. He seemed like everything I had ever wanted. We were very happy together... well, so I thought. He needed a little help on his research to stay at the university, so I helped him. I didn't want him to fail out, anyway."   
  
Julianna laughed, and the bitterness of it startled Delenn. "I helped him more than I thought, initially. I only learned about it when I was called up before the Honor board for plagiarism. They accused me of having stolen his research, his conclusions. They showed me his papers, which he had somehow managed to publish before me. I was speechless... I had no proof, no defense. I was.. turned out, both of the university and, later, of my home when they found out what I had supposedly done. I became more desperate... and then came Nightwatch and everyone suspecting everyone else... I ended up on Skid Row, stripping for a living. I was about to start turning tricks... becoming a prostitute," she clarified, "I was that desperate."   
  
Delenn's face reflected none of the horror she felt at the girl's story.   
  
"He.. found me. I don't know what he was expecting to do. But... he listened. I was drunk, I told him everything, and more, of what I've told you. He took me back to the ship, and Marisela, I think more for a decent meal than anything else, I was skin and bones at the time. And they took me in, took me on as .. I'm not sure what. Appraiser, maybe. I did odd jobs around the ship. Cooking, cleaning, whatever needed done that I could do. And he was always there... protecting me. Making me feel safe." She trailed off, staring at the empty space between her and the table.   
  
Delenn watched her, both to make sure the girl was all right and to play for time while she thought this over. It was both very like and very unlike the Sebastien she knew. And now she could see why he had inspired such devotion, and love. She reached out and held the girl's hand again.   
  
"It will be all right," she said comfortingly. Julianna looked up, smiled slightly.   
  
"Yes... eventually. Given time."  
  
Julianna was practically dancing from one foot to the other with impatience. Her face reflected her small inner conflict; on the one hand she was glad that Sebastien was being released and on the other hand she was sad for the woman who had been murdered in the process. But even Security Chief Allen had conceded that it was impossible for Sebastien to be in two places at once, and so when the fourth murder had been announced Sebastien's freedom had been secured as well. So now she was standing outside the security office while Allen went over things with Sebastien, most likely warning him against any infractions of any rules. The two men who hired on to the Redeemer as security guards were standing on either side of her.   
  
"...notify us before you head to Earth," Allen said in low tones, but Julianna heard him anyway as they came out of the office. Sebastien nodded, not bothering to respond and eventually unable to respond in any case as Julianna launched herself at him and attached herself firmly to his arm.   
  
"Thank you, Mr. Allen, I think we've got it from here," she smiled sweetly at the man, and swept out of the area with Sebastien and the two ship's security guards in tow, as regal as any princess.   
  
Sebastien had to chuckle as they walked down the hallway. "That was unkind, Julianna..." he chided gently.   
  
"What?" She asked, making her eyes wide and innocent and staring sweetly at him. "I didn't do anything."   
  
He gave her a look that, while smiling and indulgent, was also stern. "You unsettled him, for no other reason than to vindicate your perception of him, and to get a little bit of your own back for what you perceive as his ill treatment of me."   
  
Lesser men than Julianna had crumpled under his stern gaze. She had known him long enough to know that he genuinely cared about her, and that was enough to alleviate the pressure of his stare. She ducked her head slightly. "I'm sorry."   
  
He smiled; the moment passed, and they walked on. The security men, seeing eventually that there was no need for their continued presence, disappeared back into the Zocalo. Julianna smiled softly to herself. She was enjoying this time alone with Sebastien, even under the circumstances. It wasn't often that they had this, what with the crowded nature of the ship, and she knew he was uncomfortable around any sizable number of people. So she enjoyed seeing him relax, become more at ease when it was just the two of them. Occasionally she had crept up and watched him reading, or even dozing, catching a few moments alone on the ship... she would watch him for hours like that, and then creep out as silently as she had entered. Which made her wonder...   
  
"Why did Mr. Allen want to see you, with regards to the murders I mean?" she asked abruptly. "You've only just arrived here and you haven't made any trouble... why would he suspect you?"   
  
Sebastien looked away, his eyes going distant and troubled. "I'm sure he has his reasons," the man said dismissively. Julianna looked at him for a few moments as they walked.   
  
"Is it because of London?" she asked softly, and he stopped dead in his tracks and stared at her with a look that was equal parts surprise, shock, and anger. "Don't look at me like that," she said, pulling back and turning to face him. "It wasn't too hard to figure out, given the right information and a willingness to suspend disbelief..."   
  
"The right..." he said slowly, "... information?"   
  
Julianna swallowed. She definitely hadn't thought this through when she'd blurted the comment out. "When... when I was at university I studied history. European history in particular. I was able to place your mannerisms, your dress... to a specific time period. Right to a decade, in point of fact."   
  
Sebastien stared, and she turned away and began to walk a little ways down the hall. Her shoulders hunched over, as though she expected to be beaten for her audacity. "You were ... adopted by the Vorlons, I assumed, given where the Captain found you... so I guessed that made you special in some way. And then... the little things you did, or said... your avoidance of people... other things. It all pointed to one thing." She turned back towards him, a few feet down the hall. "Your reaction just now confirmed it."   
  
Sebastien stared at her, visibly re-evaluating his opinion of her. Julianna stared back, a young woman waiting for the verdict of a jury that held her life in its hands. "You deduced all of that... from a few gestures and my clothing?"   
  
She shrugged slightly, uncomfortable. "I didn't mean to ... pry..."   
  
Sebastien seemed torn between being impressed at her ingenuity and annoyed that she'd found him out. "Who else have you told?"   
  
"No one!" she seemed shocked that he'd ask such a question. "It's not my place to tell anyone..."   
  
"So you prefer to spend your time with a four-hundred year old freeze-dried serial killer," Sebastien advanced on her, and the look in his eyes was almost deliberately predatory. "Who preyed on young women such as yourself?" He stopped, his face less than six inches away from hers. She stared up at him calmly. "Aren't you afraid?"   
  
"If you were still that person, Sebastien, you'd have killed me long ago," she said quietly, and watched as his eyes widened and softened in shock and ... relief? "You've changed... even in the short while I've known you, you've changed, and for the better. I trust you, Sebastien. If you were going to hurt me you'd have done it when you first met me. And instead you saved me."   
  
Sebastien took a step back, and Julianna took a step forward. "You know what I think? I think you carry with you the guilt and shame of what you used to be. You wonder, sometimes, why you did it or if you would do it again. You hold yourself apart, believing that you must still atone, do penance for what you did four hundred years ago." She put her hands on his; they were cool, almost as though he was half gone from this plane of existence already. "You're not perfect, Sebastien. You never were. You did terrible things, but that doesn't mean you always have to live in the shadow of who you used to be. Trust me..." she smiled shyly. "I know about living in the past. I've seen enough people do it at university."   
  
He touched her cheek with the fingertips of one hand, briefly, and then sighed and slumped just barely perceptibly. "If I had been half so wise half as young as you are..." Sebastien said ruefully.   
  
"... then we would none of us be where we are now..." Julianna linked her arm through his, tugging him onwards. "Stop living in the past, Sebastien. The present is hard enough to deal with."  
  
When the next victim was found the coroner put the time of death at a point during Sebastien's stay in Security, thereby exonerating him from at least that murder. At this point even Zack had to agree that it was unlikely that he was committing any of them, and he brought Sebastien in as a consultant against Sheridan's objections. They sat around a small table, discussing the murders, going around in circles.   
  
"The world is... so different. I cannot imagine anyone attempting it again. Or expecting to receive the same sort of shock and reaction if they did." It was hard to tell if he was more disappointed that the murders were being recreated or that the reaction wasn't nearly as horrified as it had been the first time.  
  
"The fact remains, though, that your ..." Sheridan had been tripping over this problem all evening. How exactly did one talk about the Ripper murders with the Ripper sitting across the table, perfectly calm and composed and not looking in the least bit inclined to go out and murder anyone?  
  
"Exploits? Shenanigans?" Sebastien, on the other hand, seemed bound and determined to make Sheridan as uncomfortable around him as possible, at least for tonight. Or maybe that was just Sheridan's imagination, his paranoia. Or maybe Sebastien was just upset at being thrown into jail, essentially, for the murders he hadn't committed.   
  
"Whatever you want to call them. They are still popular gossip around the proverbial campfire. Even four hundred years later, people still talk about it. It's not that much of a stretch for someone who is already suffering some sort of mental illness to assume your old ways."  
  
"That's one way of putting it." Zack shook his head. He didn't particularly care who Sebastien was, what he had done, or whether or not it could be proved. His mind had simply refused to accept, despite all visuals to the contrary, that Sebastien was the original Victorian serial killer. Somehow he had worked it around in his head to where Sebastien was merely a helpful civilian, and he treated the man as such.   
  
"The question is, though... why now? Why at the exact moment that you arrive on the station... why have the killings started up now?"  
  
"I wouldn't know..." Sebastien said easily. "Someone would have had to have known..."  
  
"..who you are..." Sheridan finished, and both men looked at each other in slowly dawning horror. It was starting to come to them, and they both felt immensely foolish that they hadn't realized it before. But worse than that... Zack stared from one to the other of them and then excused himself to take a report in the other room.  
  
"Whoever it is would have had to have known where I was going..." Sebastien murmured, almost in physical shock at the thought. "They would have had to know my itinerary, my plans, how long I was staying, the exact date and time I arrived... They couldn't have known. There were delays... there were setbacks, unexpected emergencies with the ship..."  
  
"Sebastien, this person is on your ship..."  
  
Zack tossed Sheridan a data crystal. "It's worse than that. Mr. President, I just got the report on all Mr. Sebastien's previous ports of call for the last six months. You're not going to like it."  
  
Both men glanced over at him.  
  
"One, two, up to five murders for each city..."  
  
The comm flashed an alert, and was switched over to take the call before any of them could respond. "Mr. Allen, I... oh, Sebastien, thank god you're here..." Marisela looked harried, and not a little concerned. "Julianna's been taken..."  
  
The door had barely wooshed open before Sebastien dashed through it.  
  
It was a scene out of all of their worst nightmares. The engineer lay on the floor of the room in Gray sector, butchered. Julianna was being bent over nearly backwards, a long and serrated knife pressed to her throat so hard it was already drawing beads of blood. Security personnel were manning the doorway thickly enough that Sheridan, Sebastien, and Zack could barely get through. Sebastien noted with absent-minded disquiet that it was the same room in which he had interrogated Delenn. Gilbert, it seemed, had done his homework.   
  
"Just try and keep him calm," Sheridan had muttered to Sebastien as they had run down the halls to the scene. "Keep him calm long enough for someone to get him away from the hostage and take him down."  
  
But that hostage, Sebastien thought with a pang he had never expected to feel, is Julianna... the young woman as good as my daughter. And how am I supposed to keep myself calm, much less this young man who is quite certainly mad, with the knife pressed to her throat? Thoughts flickered through his mind, that it should have been him, that he should somehow have known. Anger flickered through his body, the old psychotic rage he could still remember so well, like the taste of copper in his mouth.   
  
And now he was standing in front of that mad young man, hands calmly folded over the ball-top of his walking stick, eyes calm, heart pounding. Sheridan's eyes had widened when he had seen Sebastian pull that out, knowing what it meant. If only Sheridan had known what Sebastien had discovered at the retreat of the Vorlons he might not have been so confident. The staff's powers had been vastly diminished.   
  
"Well. I am here."  
  
"And it took you long enough, too..." the young man, Raymond Gilbert (or so Sebastien vaguely remembered), snarled with enough venom and spittle to spray Julianna's cheek. Red flickers passed over Sebastien's vision and then were gone.   
  
"I'm here now," he repeated quietly, hoping the man didn't manifest his rage in violence against the young woman he held so tightly.   
  
"Yes..." his face twisted into a rictus grin, horrible to see. "You are. And we can begin the work together..."   
  
There was more in that vein, but Sebastien didn't care to hear it. He closed his eyes briefly, for what seemed like forever, shutting out all sight and sound from his mind. It was worse than he had thought, worse than he had ever conceived, and he still didn't understand how it had gone this far. Four hundred years later they should have forgotten him, and yet the legend remained clinging more tenuously to life than the man ever wanted to.   
  
"You can't succeed," Sebastien found himself saying. He opened his eyes, realizing he'd interrupted the man in mid rant. Thank god, at least he'd relaxed his hold on Julianna's throat. She still couldn't break free, though, and something would have to be done about that. "You know that, don't you."  
  
Gilbert sneered. "You mean you can't succeed. You never could. I will succeed where you failed, and if you're very lucky, I will let you stand by me when I show the world what it never had the courage to see..."  
  
Sebastien's eyes practically glowed with lightning-blue clarity. "You will succeed at nothing. You have accomplished nothing. You think you have, but only your madness is full and complete. You are defective..." and amidst the familiar surroundings the memory of Delenn kneeling in pain before him flashed through his mind. "... and you will be cast aside like so much garbage." He had said something similar to her, once. He had been wrong then. Could he be wrong now?  
  
It didn't matter. The madman had his girl, his daughter by the throat. By the arms, now, Sebastien corrected himself. Knife dropped and forgotten, Gilbert was shaking the girl at the older man like a piece of soiled clothing. "You can't possibly mean that you've given up," the man screamed. "You're not finished yet. I'm not finished yet..."   
  
Several things happened at once, then.   
  
Sebastien, having seen his opportunity, sized upon it to grab Julianna and practically hurl her away from the madman, into the waiting arms of the security guard. Unfortunately Gilbert was faster than he had anticipated. He heard the lasers of the guards... or whatever they were... and saw Gilbert drop before he realized what had happened. When his fingers reached down to where the man had seemed to punch him in the stomach, they touched wet and ragged cloth.   
  
"Oh..." he said, before the blood started to fill his lungs. His legs, stripped of their strength, buckled and sent him crashing to the floor. 


End file.
